


this is the place we were made

by chocobos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Marijuana, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Prompto, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, this suddenly grew plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: “I’m gonna ask somethin’ weird,” Noctis says, without preamble.Oh, gods.“Uh, okay?”“Ever hear of shotgunning?”





	this is the place we were made

**Author's Note:**

> ..... i have no excuse for this i just really love writing shotgunning fics
> 
> expect an ot4 one eventually, probably set in the same verse because if there's another thing i love writing it's ot4 fic 
> 
> there's drug use in this fic (obviously) so please be aware of that! i don't think there's anything else to warn for but if i missed something please feel free to let me know!
> 
> looked over by my lovely bf but all mistakes remain my own!

Prompto notices him walk into the room immediately.

For one, he’s easily the most attractive guy Prompto’s ever seen. He also happens to be wearing one of the most intricate Prince Noctis costumes in existence. He’s not _exaggerating_ ; either the dude’s wearing a wig, or he already had a suspicious Noctis-like haircut. Prompto doesn’t know which would be worse.

Granted, this is a Halloween party, so he can't judge too harshly, but it's still a bit creepy how alike they really look. And Prompto's across the crowded living room they're both standing in, so he has no idea what the gory details look like up close. Maybe he's even wearing contacts, Astrals forbid.

Prompto shudders at the thought.

Of course, Prince Noctis is a public figure, but he finds the whole thing damn unsettling. He supposes he fares no better, though; Prompto’s wanted to talk to him since elementary school, but he’s never had the nerve. Affection from afar is probably just as screwed up as making thousands of Prince Noctis costumes.

Probably.

Oh, well. Prompto's long since given up on pep talking himself into interacting with Noctis. He'd only end up embarrassing himself, and he's a delicate kind of guy. Despite how Aranea teases him, he’s not in the business of purposely making a fool out of himself.

Except for tonight. Prompto’s wearing a Pokemon trainer costume. It’s all Aranea’s fault; she’s the one who bet against him and _won_. The audacity.

Granted, it’s most formality, anyway. Prompto was already going to wear the costume -- Pokemon’s awesome and there’s no shame in his game. At least there isn’t any right now.

He shakes out of his reverie and realizes he’s lost track of ‘Prince Noctis’ but it’s fine. It’s only a few minutes later when Aranea is sliding a joint into his hand with a smug smile. He stares down at it for a moment, almost certain he’s hallucinating it.

“Thanks?” Prompto asks, unsure, reaching into his pocket for a lighter on autopilot. Bless the Astrals he remembered to bring it tonight.

“For being such a good sport,” She winks at him, then she turns on her heel to leave without another word.

She’s probably meeting up with Luna and Cindy to dance and get plastered, which is fine with him. Prompto’s never been much of an alcohol guy. Or, rather, he’s too much of an alcohol guy, so he’s not really an alcohol guy.

Prompto doesn’t have _any_ problems with weed; he’s actually quite fond of it, and he’s grateful to have friends who are kind enough to hunt it down for him at parties. Aranea’s a good friend. He’ll have to remember to text her later so he can take her out for breakfast.

He looks around the house, biting his lip. Prompto totally doesn’t want to be _that_ weird guy who smokes in the corner of house parties, so he picks up the cup of water he’s been nursing since he walked in, and heads for the backyard. Luckily it’s Cindy’s party, and she lives on a few acres of land on the outside of town. It means he’s a little less paranoid about smoking outside, but it’s something he doesn’t think he’ll ever be completely comfortable with.

Truthfully, he is absolutely terrified of the Crownsguard. They’re all intimidating as hell, and much taller and stronger than him. Prompto wouldn’t even come close to measuring up.

He walks for a for a few dozen yards, far enough away from the house that hopefully no one will bother him too much, but close enough so he can still hear the booming tempo of the music. He sits down on a grassy area underneath Cindy’s favorite tree.

Through the branches, he can see the splattering of stars that color the sky, and he’s unable to hold in the wistful sigh that builds in his throat.

Prompto leans back against the trunk, raising the joint to his lips. He flicks the lighter, inhaling slightly, and doesn’t kill it until he’s sure the paper’s burning. By the time he’s pulled the joint back, his legs are spread out in front of him and his gaze is already fixed on the sky.

“Hey.”

Prompto would be mortified, but he’s too busy hacking up a lung to have the facilities to think anything other than _gotta breathe gotta breathe gotta breathe._ In his defense, he thought he was alone out here, and he immediately feels bad about it. He was so stuck in his own head he didn’t even care to check if he was truly by himself.

“Jeez, you scared me, dude! Sorry, though. You want me to move? I didn’t think anyone else was out here.”

“No,” The voice replies, and Prompto looks over and _jumps_ into the air this time. “You mind sharing?”

It’s ‘Prince Noctis’. Astrals, the only light available is coming from the phone in his hands, but even that does nothing to subtract from the dude’s obliterating attractiveness. Prompto can practically feel the weight of it. There are two guys standing behind him -- both of them are at least a couple heads taller than both of them, but he can’t make out their faces entirely -- and Prompto really hopes this isn’t a sign he’s about to get mugged.

Their gaze is focused on the house, but he’s not going to underestimate them.

“Uh, not at all?” Prompto offers, squinting at him suspiciously. “Are you sure this is a smart idea when you’re wearing _that_?”

‘Prince Noctis’ looks down at his shirt and pats at his chest in confusion. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with this.”

Prompto stares at him but forces himself to shrug. It’s not like this is the _real_ Prince Noctis, so he supposes it doesn’t matter. He doubts there are reporters hanging around here anyway (Cindy’s grandpa has multiple ‘Do Not Trespass’ signs staked along the property). Prompto doesn’t have anything to worry about here. They’re just two bros about to share a joint. Two bros that royalty has no part of.

It’s not like Noctis would ever come to a lowly party like this, either. He definitely has better things to do.

Cindy’s parties are pretty great, though.

“I guess it makes no difference to me,” Prompto replies, eventually. A few seconds later he’s taking another considerable hit from the joint, before passing it over to his recent companion.

Prompto’s glad for the distraction. He’s never exactly found it easy to talk to people. He talks _at_ them and hopes they don’t get annoyed enough to leave him. He’s learned to use his sense of humor as a deflection, but he wonders if it’s still obvious to everyone how deep the sham runs. It’s easier to fake when he’s high, thankfully, when words come easier. As long as he isn’t too busy sticking his damn food in his mouth, that is.

He purposely averts his gaze when ‘Prince Noctis’ wraps his lips around the joint. He has more than enough experience with this to know the image will be too much for his poor brain to handle. The guy might be a royal knock-off, but he’s a hot knock-off. His mouth is literally indescribable.

He waits a few moments before asking,

“Why aren’t you enjoying the party?”

‘Prince Noctis’ passes the joint back.

“Why aren’t you?”

Prompto takes another hit.

“Touche, my friend,” Prompto laughs.

He’s starting to feel fuzzy, a gentle current beneath his skin that he’s terribly familiar with. A couple more hits and he’d be _there_ ; that place where his anxiety completely quiets and he doesn’t have to worry about what he’s saying until minutes after he’s already said it.

“I like it out here, and as a plus, I don’t have people crowding around me for a taste,” Prompto says, mouth twitching. He doesn’t know if ‘Prince Noctis’ can make out the shape of it in the darkness.

Prompto, however, doesn’t miss the look the other man shoots him.

“If that’s a--”

“It wasn’t a hit, buddy,” Prompto quickly assures him, and in a show of goodwill, he offers the joint again.

The guy takes it with an amused huff, and this time when he raises it to his lips, Prompto doesn’t shy away from the image. ‘Prince Noctis’ has such a gorgeous mouth. A gorgeous mouth that may or may not rival the Prince’s.

And he doesn’t say that lightly.

“So,” Prompto says. He’s having a hard time looking away. That isn’t a good sign. “What’s your name?”

It’s a good thing he waits to ask until after he exhales, because ‘Prince Noctis’ _chokes_.

Did he just offend this guy for all of eternity or something? Shit.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” apologizes Prompto, lightly. “It’s cool if you don’t want to tell me. I just like knowing the names of people I smoke out.”

‘Prince Noctis’ is staring at him like he has a second head, and one of the dudes behind him snorts loudly. Prompto immediately feels the soft whisper of anxiety tease at the back of his skull. It’s not overwhelming him, at least not yet, but it could get there easily.

His mask breaks, and it’s then Prompto sees he’s _amused_. Oh, Six. He just humiliated himself in front of a popular frat boy, didn’t he?

He gets the distinct feeling that if Aranea catches wind of this, he’ll never be able to live it down.

“It’s Noctis.”

Prompto blinks.

Either Noctis is moonlighting as an extremely involved Prince Noctis roleplayer -- admittedly, he’s seen much weirder, worrying things -- or his parents were overly appreciative of Insomnia’s heir. It’s not that uncommon. Prompto’s been in classes with plenty of Noctis’s over the years. He’s stopped trying to keep count.

The fact that he happens to look like the prince is nothing more than a costume, he’s sure.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, man. The name’s Prompto.”

“Likewise,” Noctis says.

Prompto grins at him, feeling a little charmed by it all. Noctis really is very pretty, and Prompto is also incredibly weak for the pretty ones. The fact that he’s had a crush on _Prince_ Noctis since middle school isn’t even that important. The chance that he’s so into this guy because he’s substituting him for the real thing is.

The thought makes him feel like an asshole.

A shuffle from behind Noctis shocks him out of his thoughts, and he snaps his eyes to Noctis’ friends. He honestly forgot they weren’t alone. His cheeks flood red at that and he brings the joint to his lips so he has something to do with his hands.

And mouth.

Prompto can feel the weight of Noctis’ gaze on the side of his face. The redness steadily starts to crack down his neck.

He blows out the smoke and looks at the two men hovering around them.

“Uh, your friends can join if they’d like…? Not gonna lie, man, the hiding in the shadows thing is pretty creepy.”

Noctis looks back, like he forgot too, and narrows his eyes.

“They were just leaving.”  

The man who is built like a _tank_ snorts.

“Don’t worry, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, Prince Charmless,” he says, exchanging a look with Noctis that Prompto’s not sober enough to decipher. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Noctis says, impatiently, waving them along.

“Please do keep yourself out of trouble,” the man with the glasses almost sounds like he’s talking to both of them.

Prompto feels properly chastised, even though his plans for the foreseeable future are to lean against this tree and get stoned out of his skull.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Specs.”

They make their leave after that, and Prompto stares after them.

“Are the like super protective or something?”

Noctis gives him another weird look but takes the joint when Prompto offers it to him.

“Something like that,” he says.

Prompto watches as he takes a hit.

It’s really none of his business how Noctis’ friends are, so he lets it go. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Prompto’s only going to smoke him out and then he’ll never have to see this guy and his weird friends again.

“I’m gonna ask somethin’ weird,” Noctis says, without preamble.

Oh, gods.

“Uh, okay?”

“Ever hear of shotgunning?”

It's pathetic how quickly the mental images start playing in 1080p in his head. There's something undeniably intimate about shotgunning; it isn't even strictly sexual or romantic. It's another way to connect with people, which Prompto loves; there's no way around the fact that you're sharing air with someone. 

It's one of Prompto's favorite things about smoking.

“Once or twice,” croaks Prompto.

“You cool with trying it with me?” Noctis’ tone goes sheepish. Cool with trying it? Was he fucking _ever_. Prompto smiles, tapping the joint on the side of his jeans.

He’s feeling fairly confident. He doesn’t know if it’s the way Noctis asked him, voice all quiet and embarrassed, or if it’s the weed that’s suddenly making him feel so bold.

“Ever do it before?”

“Nope,” Noctis admits.

Prompto grins. “Your mind is about to be blown, dude. I gotta get close. You’re not one of those homophobic frat boys who’s going to complain about me on Twitter later, are you?”

Noctis snorts, and it quickly evolves into full-blown laughter. Prompto didn’t think what he said was even remotely funny, but he’s glad the other man is enjoying himself.

“I am neither homophobic or a frat boy,” Noctis assures him once he’s calmed enough to speak.

“That’s a relief. Remember to breathe in, Noctis,” Prompto says, probably unnecessarily, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, he supposes. He brings the joint up to his lips again, shifting closer to Noctis as he inhales and leans in.

Noctis' eyes are blown wide, and there's a hint of a pink flush that sends his insides swirling. This close, Prompto can see just how much this guy truly resembles the prince. He'll have to ask him about his contouring techniques later; it's  _that_ good. Prompto brings himself out of his daze and taps his free hand gently on Noctis' chin so he knows to open his mouth. 

He does.

Prompto meets Noctis’ gaze, feeling it tingle up his spine, closing the distance between them.

He watches as Noctis’ eyes widen as Prompto starts blowing the hit into his mouth. His heart tugs slightly to the left. He’ll never get tired of this. He loves shotgunning; loves how close you have to get to each other; the closeness he usually doesn’t let himself accept. Weed has a way of clearing his head close to (almost) nothing else.

Noctis blows smoke after a few long seconds. He won’t stop looking at Prompto’s mouth.

Prompto licks his lips from nerves, clearing his throat. He pretends not to notice how Noctis follows the movement.

"How was it?" asks Prompto, curious. Personally? He's stoned as hell. The fuzziness from earlier has erupted all over, like goosebumps, and looking at Noctis only strengthens the feeling. "Did it live up to your hopes and dreams?"

Noctis hums. “Maybe. Let’s try it one more time.”

It’s not phrased like a question and it makes Prompto shudder.

“Sure, dude.”

Prompto feels like he's moving through syrup as he goes through the motion of taking another hit. All he can think about is Noctis. Even when he eventually confesses to Prompto that his name isn't actually Noctis, he can't bring himself to care about it all that much. It's like the drugs, he tells himself, but even then. Prompto doesn't think that would stop him from asking him out to coffee, later. 

It'll be one hell of a story, regardless.

This time, when Prompto leans in, Noctis meets him halfway. He doesn't want to think about all of the stupid things it's doing to his heart.  _Ridiculous._ And more than slightly frustrating. 

 

Noctis doesn’t pull away immediately, either.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Um,” Prompto says, dumbly. He can already feel the heat in his cheeks and he finds that he’s painfully out of his depth here. This is obviously just a compliment on his shotgunning skills but he’s already over-analyzing Noctis’ words. “Awww, thanks, man. I didn’t realize my technique was that impressive.”

The delivery, admittedly, is a little weak, but Prompto figures that's forgivable with the way his brain is doing belly flops in his head. He's looking way too much into this, right? This is nothing more than two dudes sharing a nice joint while stargazing. Total bro behavior, right here.

“You don’t make it easy to compliment you,” Noctis says, and okay, wow, he’s pouting.

Prompto can’t help the way his mouth stretches into a smile. “Don’t I?”

“We’ve been in classes together since elementary school. You weren’t the only one looking, Prompto.”

Prompto realizes two things simultaneously:

The first is that Noctis isn't some embarrassing, avid roleplay. He's the real dealio. He's smoking out the Crown Prince of fucking  _Lucis_. Prompto's been making a proper idiot of himself in front of the guy he's been half infatuated with since they first made eye contact. He feels a bit frozen at the thought. Astrals, all those looks Noctis gave him when he asked obvious information about himself make a lot more sense, now. 

Coincidentally, they're also significantly more horrifying. 

The second is that he's not been nearly as slick as he thinks he's been. This is a predicament he never saw himself in, and he has no idea what to do. 

It would be weird if he were to suddenly sprint away, right? Right. 

 

Instead, Prompto stares at the ground and tries to will a black hole from the lowest depths of hell to swallow him down.

When that doesn’t come, he rolls his shoulders against the tree.

“Holy shit, I just shotgunned the Prince of Lucis,” Prompto whispers to himself.

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Noctis asks.

“This is a Halloween party! I thought you were wearing a costume!”

“I wear this shirt at least once a week.”

Prompto squints at it in the dark.

He does.

“How did I not see this?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all night,” Noctis quips.

Prompto tries to glare at him but he quickly breaks. “It’s not like you make it a habit to show up at parties.”

“I’d rather sleep than go to a party,” Noctis admits, in that dry tone of his. Prompto really should’ve realized sooner. It’s impossible to miss the way Noctis talks. “Gladio forced me to come by.”

“I’d thank your friend, man,” Prompto offers, smiling a little. He bumps their shoulders together gently.

Blue meets blue then; Prompto doesn’t know what to make of the look on Noctis’ face. He’s never seen that expression on his face before, nor has it ever been directed at him. Prompto’s skin almost seems to _tighten_.

Noctis hums non-committedly, reaching over and grabbing the joint from Prompto’s fingers. It only has a few hits left before it becomes too small to safely smoke. He watches through half-lidded eyes as the Crown Prince of Lucis takes a hit like a champ from the joint and knocks it back.

Prompto barely has time to breathe before Noctis’ lips are closing over his own. His mind goes blank. Sharing smoke was intimate enough, but he had made sure that he didn’t touch Noctis’ lips before. This is remarkably more intimate, as there’s only a few centimeters difference.

 

“If I creeped you out you shoulda -- _Wait_." Noctis' words finally, blessedly, sink in. "What do you mean I wasn’t the only one looking?”

Noctis’ cheeks flood red, and it’s comforting that he’s not the only one being affected by their conversation.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Prompto swears time skips.

 _Beautiful_. Is he hearing this correctly? Prompto doesn’t understand how he was even on Noctis’ radar to begin with. Sure, they’ve been in school together for ages and somehow got enrolled in the same university, but that doesn’t mean anything.

Prompto can’t remember half the names of the kids he went to school with. He only remembers Noctis because he’s the only one worth remembering.

Plus, as aloof and quiet as the guy is, he tends to make an impression.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately, man?”

Noctis rolls his eyes.

“See? Impossible to compliment,” Noctis intones, feigning annoyance. His smile is the only reason Prompto can tell.

“No, this isn’t even me being modest, here. I, uh -- no offense, I just don’t understand how you even noticed me?”

The Prince looks unbearably pleased with himself. It's an unnecessarily good look on him.

"I'm not _that_ unobservant."

Prompto wonders what it says about his skills in that particular matter that he never noticed Noctis was looking back at him. He decides not to bring it up and smiles.

"Never thought you were, buddy," Prompto says, sweetly. "This has another hit left. Wanna?"

It's actually increasingly likely he'll burn himself, but it's worth it.

Noctis looks like he sees right through it, but he smiles; soft and almost _glowing_. Prompto waits until he rolls his eyes and mutters, " yes," until he's inhaling smoke and leaning in to capture Noctis' lips in (rather poor) imitation of a kiss.

As much as he wants to kiss Noctis, they're both stoned. If he's going to do this, he's going to do it right. Making out while high is an activity they can enjoy later. Probably. If Noctis ever wants to do this with him again, that is.

He pulls away as soon as the smoke leaves his lungs and grins at him.

"You make a habit out of shotgunning unsuspecting strangers at house parties, Noctis?" Prompto asks, and then adds, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone, "and don't try to sell me the whole 'never done it before' thing again. Filthy liar."

Noctis laughs, then, and Prompto realizes that he would do almost anything in order to hear it all over again.

Astrals, how long has he had it this bad for?

"Nope. I can tell you honestly you're the first unsuspecting stranger I've shotgunned with."

"Allegedly," Prompto counters, easily. There's a sudden bright itch across his fingertips and he yelps quickly putting the joint out on his pants. Definitely not going to win any bonus points for being a slob, but at least this way he isn't accidentally starting a fire.

"Unbelievable," Noctis laughs. "Shoulda put the joint out sooner."

"Probably," agrees Prompto, still smiling. "Hey, Noct?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad Gladio made you come here tonight." 

Noctis meets his gaze, eyes warm, warm, warm. 

"Me too." 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

"You know what sounds like fun?" asks Prompto, breaking the silence. 

It's a nice silence, not awkward in the slightest, but Prompto can't ignore the rumbling of his stomach any longer.

Noctis huffs, but it's in amusement more than anything else,

"What?"

"Milkshakes. I would kill for one right now, dude."

"Then let's go get some milkshakes."

Noctis doesn't hesitate, which is what trips Prompto up the most. He doesn't know if he'll ever get used to the way Noctis looks at him. Even through slitted reddened eyes, whenever Prompto feels his gaze on him, he burns up.

"Have I ever told you that you're the best?" he asks, casually. His heart is drumming loudly in his chest. At least he gets the question out without making a fool of himself.

"No, but I'm listening now if you want to start," Noctis says, with a shit-eating grin that stretches from ear to ear. Prompto doesn't think he's ever seen him smile this much; unless he's around the two friends that were hovering behind them. It makes Prompto feel that much more horrified by the entire night.

The two very distinguishable men should've tipped him off.

Noctis gets up to his feet before Prompto can bring himself to say anything. A few seconds later he offers Prompto a hand. He stares at it for a few seconds until it clicks, and he flushes brightly. But there's nothing stopping him from grasping it, so he does.

His hands are warm; calloused and soft at the same time. Probably all of those expensive lotions he undoubtedly buys.

"Thanks, man," Prompto says.

Noctis waves him off with his free hand and Prompto blinks because suddenly Noctis' fingers shift and he's threading their fingers together as they start walking back to the house. Prompto has to swallow around the tightness in his throat at that. Six, he hopes his fingers aren't as sweaty as they feel.

He doesn't moisturize, either.

Hopefully, Noctis doesn't care about that as much as his skin suggests.

Prompto wants to hold his hand as much as he wants to pull it away. Perhaps he's affectionate when he's high? He gets like that sometimes, too.

"We shouldn't drive," says Noctis.

"Probably not," he agrees, smiling slightly. "There's a diner a few blocks away. We could walk there?"

"Let's go."

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

The walk to the diner is quiet.

Sometimes Prompto will comment on their surroundings ("Noct, look! That tree over there is dabbing, nature is totally _awesome._ ") and there's also a cute frog that Prompto can't help but take a picture of. It makes a break for his face as soon as the flash on his phone goes off; his heart is racing in his chest for an entirely different reason, then. But Noctis is _laughing_. The moonlight off his hair makes it look blue-silver, and his eyes are as dark as ever. Prompto doesn't know how to look at him without exploding.

Prompto's hand clenches around his phone and it's an effort not to raise it to snap another picture.

Noctis is unbearably good-looking.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, buddy. That frog could've taken an eye out!"

"How dangerous," Noctis teases. "Sounds like a case for the Crownsguard."

Prompto sighs testily, but his performance is shadowed by the way he's grinning. "Well. At least you're taking me seriously."

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Noctis doesn't let go of his hand once.

Prompto doesn't let him examine what it means too closely.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

They arrive at the diner a few minutes later. They're still holding hands when they walk through the door; they're still holding hands when the waitress seats them in a corner booth by a window. They even hold hands across the table, like Prompto's seen actors do in those cheesy romantic comedies he'll never be ashamed to admit he loves.

Prompto feels like he's being stripped bare underneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the diner, but he finds it hard to care with the weight of Noctis' gaze on him. Or maybe it's _because_ of Noctis' gaze.  

It makes him pause, all the same.

Prompto's never been looked at like this before.

Like he's someone worth keeping.

"So, milkshakes," Prompto starts, randomly. "Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Mint chocolate chip."

" _Really_?" He asks. "You're a mint person?"

"I guess. You're not?"

"Mint tastes like bare ass, dude."

 _Would still kiss him, though,_ he thinks.

He really would.

Noctis only snorts again, and his hands squeeze around Prompto’s. He wonders if it was involuntary or not; other than the amusement plain on his face, it’s impossible to read.

"Uh huh. Which one are you?"

Prompto glances at their hands. "Cookie dough."

Noctis’ eyes are _shining_. “Good choice.”

"I only put the best into my body," Prompto says proudly like he didn't eat an entire pizza pie this morning before his morning run.

“In that case, how are the fries here?”

“Good, I guess?”

“Wanna split a plate?”

Prompto’s heart pounds like Noctis just asked to kiss him, and he curses it quietly.

“Hell yeah, dude. I’m always down for some potatoes.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Noctis says, sounding… fond.

Nope, nope, nope _nope_.

Prompto isn't touching that with anything less than a seventy-five-foot pole.

“Nothing wrong with letting the geek flag fly, Noct.”

Noctis simply squeezes his hand again. Prompto chances another glance at his face and is instantly warmed the picture Noctis makes. “There _really_ isn’t _._ ”

He flushes. 

“I didn’t think you’d be this much of a flirt.”

“Mmm. Who says I’m flirting?”

It’s definitely irrational, but Prompto’s heart falls right out of his chest. Shit. Was he misreading this? Are they only getting food together because Noctis has the munchies?

“Oh?” He croaks.

“Maybe I’m only telling the truth, Prom.”

Prompto’s flash of relief is so stark it causes him to flush all over again.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Prompto says, smiling crookedly.

Noctis’ answering laughter is the sweetest soundtrack.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

(He knows it’s corny as hell. Shut up.)

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Their waitress arrives a handful of minutes later to take their order, and truthfully Prompto’s grateful for the distraction. There’s only so much longer he can stare at Noctis while he teases him with that _look_ on his face that makes his insides go gooey. Sure, for some reason, Noctis seems to have parted with sense and thinks Prompto’s beautiful, but that doesn’t mean anything. It could’ve been a drug-fueled confession. People say a lot of things when they’re stoned.

The plan is to get an order of fries, and two milkshakes. Prompto almost wants to get a burger, too, but he's running pretty low on funds this month. He shouldn't tempt fate.

But then Noctis is not-quite-smiling at him and asks,

"Want to get a burger, too?"

"Oh, uh. Sure?" Prompto says, mainly because he doesn't know what else to say and he really wants that burger. He's survived on less before and ramen isn't _that_ bad if you add enough sriracha.

"Cool." Noctis pauses. "Order whatever one you want, it's on me."

"Aw, buddy, that isn't necessary."

"You can pay next time," he says, voice like a promise.

Prompto folds. He was totally bluffing earlier.

He so does not want to live on top ramen until he gets paid again.

"Deal."

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

By the time their food arrives, most of Prompto's lingering nerves have, thankfully, found somewhere better to terrorize.

Prompto finds that Noctis is easy to talk to once he gets over himself and realizes he's as much of a person as he is, and being a Prince doesn't change that. Behind the royal lineage, Noctis is _normal_ ; he sleeps too much, hates vegetables and apparently has a soft spot for animals if the -- dozens of -- pictures of his dog are any indication.

("Is that a dog or a horse laying on your bed?"

Noctis laughs. "She's too fluffy to be a horse, Prom."

"You'd be surprised," Prom mutters darkly. "What's her name?"

"Carbuncle."

"Dude, she's so cute. Even if she does look massive."

"Oh, she's huge," Noctis says, fondly. "You should meet her."

"I would be _honored_."

All jokes aside, Prompto isn't in the business of turning down offers to pet dogs.)

"I can't wait to get this in me," Prompto blurts out, looking down at his burger. He registers what he says only a few moments later, and then he stares even harder. Hopefully, his double-cheeseburger will gain sentience by osmosis and mercifully knock him out.

Prompto puts his foot in his mouth _a lot,_  but surely this has to be a record.

Noctis makes a choking noise, which catches Prompto's attention. Noctis' head is in his hands and his shoulders are shaking.

"Are you okay, man?" Prompto asks, after a while. At least a good ninety seconds, which is pretty damn polite, if you ask him.

Noctis waves him off with a shaky hand, but at least he isn't hunched over anymore. His face is extremely red, and it drips down onto his neck. God, he's so pretty.

"I should've talked to you sooner," is what Noctis says.

Prompto supposes there isn't a way he can embarrass himself further after the night he's had tonight, so he might as lay all of his cards out on the table.

"Now's better than never," Prompto says. "Besides, I could've talked to you too, Noct."

Noctis takes a bite of his burger. After he swallows, he says, "I can't argue with that."

Prompto smiles down at his plate like a loser.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Sitting there with Noctis makes him feel like anything but, though.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Halfway through their meal, Prompto notices Noctis’ gaze lingering on the corners of his mouth. He writes it off, at first. Prompto’s not the neatest eater in the world; maybe there’s ketchup on his lips again. An onion caught in the corners of his mouth? It’s happened before.

It’s as attractive as it sounds.

But even _after_ Prompto not so subtly wipes at the spot with a napkin, Noctis doesn’t falter.

The thought alone makes him burn and shrivel at once, and he has no idea what to do about it. Should he continue playing politely oblivious? He’s so lost he may as well be on another plane of existence.

He should pretend he doesn’t notice, he knows this, but there’s this small (extremely, _incredibly_ small) part of him that wants to draw more attention. He wants to see how far he can push Noctis, wants to know what it would take for the guy to lean over their table and kiss him.

Prompto silently compromises with himself by leaning his head dramatically into a hand and smiling at Noctis.

“Thank you,” he says. He feels like a broken record; almost, but as corny as it sounds, there’s something about Noctis that makes him feel grateful.

“Anytime, Prom.”

Prompto feels heat on his cheeks, and his ears, and well, pretty much everything. He’s never been this thoroughly charmed by someone. Sure, he’s known of Noctis for pretty much forever. He had been watching television specials of him long before they ever went to school together, but being with him, _here_ , it makes him feel like an idiot. He could've had this ages ago; could've actually had a friend in high school.

His mouth tastes like regret for the remainder of the meal, but he barely registers the bitterness.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Dinner goes smoothly. They never run out of anything to talk about and he can’t even bring himself to feel insecure because he did most of the talking. Noctis never asks him to stop, nor does he look particularly annoyed by it.

He’s seen Noctis do it before, albeit a bit more awkwardly polite. He has no idea how to feel knowing his childhood -- all-time -- crush actually wants to hear him talk.

The more Prompto thinks about it, the more he thinks he might pass out.

“Do you live around here?” Noctis asks, once they’re outside and the cool air rudely smacks him against the face.

Prompto shudders. He’s going to go ahead and blame it on the chill.

“Uh, yeah. I live fifteen minutes from here.”

The corners of his mouth quirk.

“Can I walk you home?”

Prompto’s heart jumps into his throat. He wonders how eager his face looks.

“Yeah!” He croaks. “I mean, sure, dude. But what about your friends? Won’t they be wondering where you are?”

“They’ll be fine without me,” Noctis assures him, but he does take his phone out.

Prompto bites his lip.

“Okay.”

Noctis lets out a breath like he wasn’t sure Prompto would say yes. He seems to have a better poker face than he thought. Prompto watches as the prince’s fingers glide across the keys, no doubt typing a message to his friends.

Prompto waits until he looks up from his phone to start walking in the direction of his apartment. His parents haven’t lived here for a long time. “I live this way.”

Noctis nods, and they head off towards Prompto’s. As much as an apartment paid off by his dead parents could be _his_. It’s quiet for a while, their silence is heavy but with a comfort Prompto doesn’t expect. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to not needing to fill up space with someone.

It remains quiet until Noctis lets out a loud breath and brushes his hand against his own. It feels deliberate; like a promise.

“Why did you walk away?”

Prompto blinks.

“Uh, what? I’m right here, buddy.”

Is he having a reaction to what they smoked? He doubts it; it’s hours later and he feels pretty much entirely sober, but then again he doesn’t have a lot of experience with that stuff. Sometimes he has panic attacks, but this doesn’t feel like that.

“The first day of freshman year,” Noctis clarifies, looking off into space.

Red paints over Prompto’s cheeks for an entirely different reason now.

“You saw that?” He whispers, absolutely mortified.

“I saw you every time.”

Well, that makes him want to die, if he's being honest. 

Just a little.

Prompto bites his lip, immensely grateful Noctis' eyes are pointedly focused elsewhere. The reason why he turned around that day was embarrassing, and stupid, now that he looks back on it. He let something so small completely shatter his confidence for  _four_ years. Took it a sign that he was never meant to be friends with Noctis, no matter what Luna thought. 

“It’s stupid,” Prompto tells him, struggling to keep his voice audible.

“Don’t sweat it,” Noctis tells him, shrugging. “If you want to tell me you can, but you don’t have to.”

Prompto doesn’t want to talk about it, not at all. He’d like to keep his reasons locked up for the next hundred years, at least, and forget it ever happened. It’s been _years_ since he took care of Tiny, since that day in the schoolyard. Prompto doesn’t harbor any ill feelings, but falling flat on his face was hard enough the first time.

Repeating it had been emotional torture.

“I, uh. Tripped over a root?” Prompto offers, feeling unsure. “Kinda took it as a sign that I was still unworthy to talk to you, I guess.”

Noctis’ gaze snaps to him, then. He can’t bring himself to meet it, not yet. He feels like a nerve scraped raw, which is ridiculous. His problem is _ridiculous_. Prompto was a coward, back in high school. Before then, too. He doesn’t know what he is now.

“That’s what’s been bothering you?”

Prompto bites his lip. “I know it sounds stupid--”

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Noctis tells him.

He scoffs.

“I’m serious, Prom. You tried, at least. That’s farther than I ever got.”  Noctis sounds serious, tone leaning towards pleading, maybe. Prompto’s the worst at deciphering tone.

“I’m a pleb, dude. I don’t think anyone’s shocked you never tried to talk to me,” Prompto jokes.

Noctis stops in place, and Prompto, predictably, trips from the sudden movement. Noctis doesn’t let him fall, reaching out to grab his wrist and tug him back full height. Prompto stares at him, unsure why he’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk at two in the morning, but finds that his voice has left him entirely. Everything he wants to ask Noct dies in his throat, filling his mouth with ash.

“I want to kiss you,” Noctis says, and the death march starts ricocheting inside his skull.

“I?” Prompto blurts.

“Yeah, Prom. _You_.”

God, how he _wants._ But he did technically give Noctis drugs only a few hours ago. Prompto doesn’t want to be a total sleazeball. Still, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Noctis’ hand. His fingers are sweaty, and maybe trembling a little. Stolen kisses around a teenage game of spin the bottle have left him dreadfully unprepared.

Is it unethical to kiss the dude you just smoked out? Prompto doesn’t know. Shockingly, this is the first time he’s ever been in this position.

“You still high?” Prompto asks, finding a rock on the ground a few inches in front of him with his foot. He kicks it.

“No,” Noctis says, honestly. “Even if I was I would still want to kiss you.”

Prompto ducks his head, hiding a grin that feels just a bit too lovesick. He’s thought about this before, guiltily enough, but he never dreamed of anything like this.

“Kiss me, then,” says Prompto, aiming for artful nonchalance and missing by a mile.

Noctis does exactly that, pulling Prompto gently to him with a tug at their entwined hands. Wow, when did that happen? Prompto didn’t even _notice_. He isn’t able to think about it any longer; Noctis’ lips crash -- literally and most importantly, painfully -- against his and all traces of competence fly out the window.

Prompto responds to the kiss immediately, wrapping his arms around what he thinks is Noctis waist. He tastes like the milkshake and fries they had at the diner, and it lights Prompto up. He’s ninety percent sure there’s fireworks. He can’t really hear anything aside from the roar of blood in his ears.

A flicker of tongue at his lips has Prompto opening his mouth on impulse. He can’t help the groan that builds in his throat when Noctis’ tongue enters his mouth. Prompto can’t extend the energy to be all that bothered by it.

If anything, Noctis seems to like it, with the way that he slides his free hand into Prompto’s hair.

Did he wash it last night? Astrals, he hopes so.

When they pull away, Noctis is breathing heavy through his nose, and his lips are red, open; _kiss inducing_. If possible, Prompto only wants to kiss him more.

“Dude,” Prompto whispers.

“Bro,” Noctis says back, looking amused.

“You kissed me.”

Noctis raises an eyebrow. “I told you I was going to.”

Prompto licks his lips. Noctis’ eyes narrow at the movement.

“Still didn’t prepare me, Noct,” says Prompto, dramatically, laying a hand over his heart.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous enough to _not_ kiss,” he points out, cheekily.

“I’m starting to reconsider,” Noctis informs him, but he also leans into press another quick kiss to Prompto’s lips.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

It’s taking him twice as long to walk home. As it turns out, walking home and stopping to kiss someone every fifteen steps isn’t very productive. But, Prompto doesn’t care. All that’s waiting for him is an empty apartment, Noctis-less company, and a cold bed. He isn’t itching to get home.

Prompto doesn’t realize he’s shivering until there’s a new weight on his shoulders, and when he turns his head he sees Noctis’ jacket draped over him. He can’t feel his face from the bite of frost in the air, but he swears he sees the contrast of his blush reflected in Noctis’ eyes.

“ _Noct_.”

“Shut up,” Noctis says, reaching down to grab Prompto’s hand again. “Just tell me you’re cold next time, nerd.”

“Next time? You plan on making hanging out with me in the freezing cold a frequent thing?”

Noctis’ face goes soft, but his voice is steady when he speaks. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Prompto bites his lip on a smile.

“Whatever I want?”

“Sure,” says Noctis again, immediately.

“What about ‘nother date?” Prompto asks, before he allows his nerves to talk him out of it. He doesn’t think Noctis will say no, not unless this night is one of those ‘Things That Only Happen While High’ type of dates.

“You free tomorrow?”

Prompto grins, feeling something a lot like giddiness fill his chest.

“Nope, sorry.”

Noctis’ face falls.

“I got a date with the Prince.”

Three seconds of silence, and then,

 _“_ You’re such an asshole,” but it’s fond, and Noctis can’t stop smiling at him.

“Leave a message at the beep,” Prompto says, pulling Noctis close to him. “I’m afraid my mouth is currently preoccupied.”

Prompto kisses him before his sentence is finished, and feels Noctis’ answering scoff against his mouth.

It’s the best thing he’s tasted tonight by far.

**Author's Note:**

> if u made it through that i'm very proud of you tbh 
> 
> i know i was a bit vague in the fic, but pretty much everything that happens early in canon (noctis' attack, prompto finding tiny and nursing her back to health, etc) happen! prompto never successfully approaches noctis in high school, so they never become friends. 
> 
> i am serious about eventually writing an (equally) sappy ot4 fic in this verse. would anyone be interested in that? i think it would be fun! 
> 
> anyway i rlly hope u enjoyed this! lmk what you think!


End file.
